


Of Regrets, Creaking Floorboards and Taking Chances

by queerofthedagger



Series: Chasing Stars - A Series of Jegulus One-Shots [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, First War with Voldemort, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 07:51:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21133238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerofthedagger/pseuds/queerofthedagger
Summary: Regulus defected and now has to stay at an Order safe house, with only James for company – which is fine, really, right until there are three more families moving in and they suddenly have to share a bed.





	Of Regrets, Creaking Floorboards and Taking Chances

**Author's Note:**

> Another Prompt-fill: "There’s only one bed and we sleep as far away from each other as possible but wake up cuddling." 
> 
> I'll be honest, I had to think a bit to come up with a scenario for this one, but I think (hope) this works. I love the trope, so it was fun to write!

“Hey, I made you a coffee,” James greets him as soon as he enters the kitchen and he smiles a bit, gratefully accepting the mug but otherwise staying silent. It’s barely 7 am and, besides absolutely not being a morning person, he barely got any sleep. Bloody nightmares.

After weeks of being holed up in this house, James knows that well enough and lets him be, and not for the first time does Regulus send silent thanks to whoever is listening that the Order assigned James Potter as his ‘guard.’ Not that they would outright call him that, but Regulus is not naïve enough to think that they trust him.

He wouldn’t either if he’s honest, some days he isn’t even sure if he still trusts himself. He might have defected and told Dumbledore everything he knows about the Horcrux, instead of going to the cave by himself, he might have hated being a Death Eater and the Dark Lord and his parents, but he’s acutely aware of the things he did, in just _what_ he played a part, and his dreams make sure that he won’t ever forget it.

He sighs inwardly, trying to shove the images of mangled bodies and the screams of innocent people behind his mental walls, trying to focus on the bitterness of his coffee, the cool breeze, and rays of sun that are filtering through the open windows on his face, wishing that it would be enough to dispel all the darkness.

A warm hand on his shoulder startles him and James looks at him with worry in his eyes. He swallows, not for the first time feeling like he doesn’t really deserve how kind and friendly James is with him.

Thankfully, he doesn’t ask if he’s alright – he doesn’t want to lie, but he’s also not going to whine about things he mostly has only himself to blame for.

“You want some pancakes?” James asks instead and he nods.

“What are you doing up this early, anyway?” he asks after James turned towards the stove, playing with the spoon in his mug to avoid looking at him too much. He always found him rather attractive, and spending day after day in the same house only led to an overall fondness on top of it – he might have called it a crush, if that didn’t sound bloody stupid to his own ears. He knows he’d never have a chance.

“Sirius is coming over in half an hour,” James says, throwing a grin over his shoulder. “He’s going to bring us two brooms, then we can finally have that Seeker match we talked about.”

He smiles in response, more because James looks ridiculously happy about it than because of the flying, though he does look forward to that as well. There’s not much you can do here apart from roaming the library, but there’s only so much you can read before going mad. Coming from him, that’s saying something.

James started teaching him how to cook – something he didn’t think he would ever learn in this life – which is more fun than he anticipated, but only goes so far as entertainment.

They’re lucky that the wards include the extensive garden of the old house they’re staying in, the only way he ever has the chance to get some fresh air. “Well, then I can finally show you who’s the better Seeker between the two of us,” he grins, picking up the reoccurring debate.

James laughs and shakes his head. “We’ll see. I just hope Sirius remembers to bring a bloody snitch,” he says, putting down two plates onto the wooden table.

He grimaces a bit because Sirius tends to forget stuff like that. Their relationship is still a bit tense but it’s getting better – after all, if it wasn’t for Sirius, he would most likely lie on the bottom of a lake full of Inferi by now.

It was mostly coincidence – he didn’t count on meeting Sirius at the Three Broomsticks, the night he wanted to get wasted one last time, much less on spilling everything after they both had a few too many Firewhiskey’s. And he’s still glad beyond belief that it was Sirius he met, not anybody else.

Naturally, his brother didn’t let him go, taking him home to his flat instead and spending the next three days convincing him to tell Dumbledore about the Horcrux, and letting the Order help him.

It’s not like Regulus regrets it, no matter that besides Sirius and James nobody really trusts him or that he can’t leave the house; he quite likes being alive, even if his plan didn’t exactly bring that across. He’s not convinced yet that he’ll make it out of this war, and there’s a lot of self-loathing and nightmares and dread that just won’t let go of him, but all things considered, he’s probably pretty lucky.

They’re not even finished with breakfast when Sirius arrives, as loud and boisterous as always, and he can’t help but smile and return the brief hug.

“Alright, you two?” Sirius grins, putting two brooms on the table and he’s surprised to note that they’re his and Sirius’ old ones. “I might or might not have visited our dear mother to inquire if she heard anything about you,” Sirius shrugs at his looks, and he winces a bit.

It’s not that he exactly loves his mother, but everyone agreed to keep his defection a secret which means most people simply think he disappeared, and with it already being a few months and the death of their father last year, it’s probably not that easy for her.

He shakes the thought and raises a brow at Sirius. “And she didn’t just kick you out but let you into my old room?”

“Well…” Sirius grins and he groans, thinking that this just has to be a typical Sirius-story. “She’s going mad for real now, I think. First, she thought I was you, then she screamed at me for a good 10 minutes, _of course_ she did,” a shadow flickers through Sirius’ eyes, but it’s gone quickly. “And then she begged me to keep my eyes open for you. I told her I needed some stuff from my room and she let me, so it’s not that interesting, to be honest.”

He sighs but ignores the vague pang of guilt – really, if he wouldn’t be hiding, he would be dead, so it’s not like it makes much of a difference. “Thanks,” he says because he knows how difficult it must have been for Sirius to go back there.

Sirius just shrugs. “I would have given you mine and gotten James’ old one, but he crashed it some time ago, and I didn’t want to buy new ones for some backyard stunts, so…”

He looks at James who is sitting on one of the counters, legs swinging and looking sheepish. “I was drunk, it was dark, and a tree jumped into my way.”

He laughs, wishing he could have seen that.

“Sure it jumped into your way Prongs, that’s exactly what happened,” Sirius snorts, earning himself a punch on the shoulder.

“Anyway, did you bring us a few snitches as well?” James asks, obviously intent on changing the subject.

Sirius’ eyes widen and both James and Regulus groan simultaneously, but then Sirius smirks and pulls a crate out of his bag. “Of course I did, but thanks ever so much for believing in me,” he says, a dramatic hand over his heart.

Before they can say anything, he sobers and says, “Before I forget it though, Mad-Eye said he’s coming by later. I didn’t get what exactly is going on but if I’m not mistaken, there might be a few more people moving in, at least for some time.”

Regulus swallows, not knowing what he should think about that. Not only does he enjoy James’ company, but he’s also a bit wary about anybody else. Dumbledore is treating him nicely enough, but Moody is one of the most suspicious of him, and he doesn’t know what to expect from anybody else.

It’s mostly justified, only Dumbledore, Sirius and James know about the Horcrux and to anybody else, it looks like he simply couldn’t take it anymore – which, if he was a spy, would be the story he’d tell as well.

A look at James shows him that he’s frowning slightly. “Do you know why?”

Sirius bites his bottom lip, running a hand through his hair and he sighs, sitting down on one of the chairs. Regulus can suddenly see the exhaustion, the dark shadows under his eyes, his hands trembling ever so slightly and his skin pale in the faint morning light, and he wonders how he missed this until now.

“They got the McKinnon’s, last night,” Sirius whispers after the silence stretched for a while, his eyes swimming with tears.

James’ draws a sharp breath and Regulus can feel his throat tighten, a sudden weight settling in his stomach.

“The whole family. The order is moving everyone into safe houses now, Dumbledore is currently putting them all under the Fidelius, like this one. But we don’t have enough houses for everyone because we’re also moving the Muggle relatives, so they’re putting two to four families per house.” He rubs a hand over his face, and they’re all silent.

“Did… Did they get Marlene, too?” James finally asks, his voice heavy and shoulders slumped.

Sirius only nods and he looks so defeated, so still and broken that Regulus has to take deep, measured breaths against the tears burning in his own eyes. He remembers Marlene, she played on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, always full of life and determination.

James slides down from the counter and pulls Sirius into a hug, both of them clinging to each other and crying silently, and Regulus feels like an intruder, feels all that guilt and self-loathing crashing down on him once again.

Rationally, he knows that it’s not his fault, that he couldn’t have done anything, but that knowledge does nothing against the feelings threatening to overwhelm him; he was a part of that, he chose to serve someone who’s killing those friends of his brother, who would kill his brother if he gets the chance, who literally kills anybody who just looks at him the wrong way.

No matter how much his parents pressured him into taking the mark, he never did anything to try going against them.

He tugs at his sleeves, a gesture that is quickly becoming a nervous habit. He always wears long sleeves these days, unable to stand the sight of that bloody skull on his arm, the way he’s branded, and how it serves to remind him every single day of all the wrong choices he made.

He jumps violently when he feels arms pulling him into a hug, and barely bites back the sob when he realises that it’s Sirius’ who is sitting next to him and holding him close. He doesn’t feel like he deserves it, but Sirius doesn’t let go of him and he slowly feels his heartbeat slowing down, his breathing returning to normal, and wonders when he actually started to get so worked up.

“It’s not your fault,” Sirius murmurs into his hair and he wants to believe him, he really does, but it doesn’t work like that. It never does.

When Sirius lets go of him he stares at his hands, twisted in his lap and too embarrassed to look at either of them. It feels wrong, somehow, getting comforted over this when it’s them who lost a friend.

Sirius sighs, his hand lingering on his shoulders before he straightens up. “I have to go, I’m sorry. I’ll try to visit over the next few days, yeah?”

They both nod and Regulus is scared of the silence that will follow as soon as Sirius walks out of the door, but he wouldn’t have needed to. James plops down next to him and throws an arm around his shoulder, like it’s the most normal thing to do. Regulus tries to ignore the warmth that spreads through him at the contact, but he’s not very successful.

“Stop beating yourself up,” James says softly, and when he whips his head around to stare at him, he’s smiling a bit. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed. I know it’s not… Not really any of my business but I like to think that we’re friends by now and – it’s not your fault, you know? War is horrible, it fucks us all up and you, contrary to many others, did the right thing after realising what you were doing.”

His mouth is dry and he doesn’t know what to say, what to think, but eventually, he says quietly, “That might be true but I still… I still joined him, Merlin, the things – “

He chokes on his words and James pulls him more tightly against his side, propping his chin on Regulus’ head. The armrest of his chair is digging into his side and his back hurts slightly at the angle, but he can’t bring himself to move away.

“I’m not saying that you didn’t make mistakes, but you were _sixteen,_ and you made the right choice in the end, and that says more about you than the rest. Merlin, you planned to sacrifice yourself in silence, that’s one of the bravest, most selfless things I ever heard about,” James says, and his voice is so full of conviction that he can’t help but believe him, at least for now.

They stay like this for a while and Regulus can feel his mind settle slowly.

“Come on, let’s take these brooms out for a bit, yeah? It’ll help to take our minds off everything and I think we can both use that right now,” James says eventually, and he can feel his own excitement rise at the eagerness in James’ eyes.

The October sun is weak and it’s windy, the trees moving in colourful disarray in the overgrown garden, but it’s a beautiful day and perfect for chasing after the Snitch. They just fly for a little while, racing each other and doing tricks to show off before James lets one of the Snitches free.

He’s a bit surprised at how good James is at seeking, but he probably shouldn’t be. After all, he was an exceptional Chaser for Gryffindor and if the rumours are true, he was asked by numerous scouts shortly before leaving Hogwarts.

Regulus faintly remembers him walking around with a Snitch at Hogwarts, and snorts to himself at the memory – Merlin, but James was a bloody idiot in school, it’s kind of impressive how much he changed. Then again, they all did and that he’s not the only one who needed some time is kind of comforting.

Granted, joining the Death Eaters doesn’t really compare, but maybe he’s going to be able to not feel so horrible about himself, someday.

They’re only touching back down when the sun is already hanging low, soft golden light making everything appear slightly ethereal and long shadows stretching over the grass. James looks wind-swept, hair even messier than usual and cheeks flushed, but his eyes are sparkling and he’s grinning brightly, and Regulus thinks that flying might have been the best idea they’ve come up within weeks.

It also helps that he beat him seven to five.

His good mood dims when he’s greeted by Moody’s narrowed eyes as soon as they step into the kitchen. There are no less than 10 people in here, none of them that he knows but all wearing robes. Figures that they wouldn’t put any Muggles in the same house as him, no matter that he couldn’t care less about it by now.

He spares James a grateful look when he stops next to him and puts a hand on his shoulder, wondering absent-mindedly when his presence became something so bloody comforting.

Moody only nods to James, bellowing a few instructions (orders) around, before turning back to them. “Right lads, I know Sirius already told you what’s going on. I don’t have much time, but we have three families, the Dearborn’s, Fenwick’s and Brown’s. I know it’ll be a bit crowded but I’m sure you’ll manage.”

He’s already turning away when he stops once more and throws over his shoulder, “I nearly forgot, we don’t have enough rooms so you will have to share. You don’t mind, right? Great.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, just leaves them standing in the middle of the kitchen, surrounded by people who are levitating luggage around and chattering amongst themselves, while a bunch of children who must all be under 11 are running around.

Regulus’ mind is weirdly blank, his mouth dry. Surely, _surely_ Moody means sharing a _room_, right? But he knows that all the bedrooms have only one bed, which is most likely the reason they have this problem in the first place, in a house that has 11 rooms.

“Well, that’s unexpected,” James says slowly, and Regulus notices only now that his hand left his shoulder at some point. His voice is strangely controlled and he’s frowning, and Regulus’ heart sinks a bit.

It’s not like he’s all that keen on sharing a bed himself, but it’s more because he doesn’t think it will be particularly helpful with his stupid crush and he’s pretty sure that James’ aversion is caused by very different reasons.

“I can sleep on the couch in the library,” he says, unwilling to put James through something he so obviously doesn’t want. If he’s good at one thing it’s pretending that nothing is wrong, after all.

James looks surprised by his offer but quickly shakes his head. “Bullshit, that thing is terribly small, and I don’t even know if we don’t have to put one of the children on that. Pity that transfiguration doesn’t really last. Anyway, let’s take my room, I think the bed is bigger than yours.”

He sighs but knows better than to protest. He learned over the last weeks that the only person more stubborn than James is Sirius, so there’s not much sense in trying to convince him otherwise.

The rest of the day is uncomfortable and weird. He feels like James is avoiding him but at the same time thinks he’s being ridiculous – they’re busy with settling everyone in and James is cooking dinner, so it’s not like they have much time together.

It’s an abrupt change to the quietness of the last weeks. They rarely got any visitors, and now the house is full of people, children running through the corridors and adults trying to get as comfortable as is possible with the restricted space they have.

A few of them eye him with mistrust; he knows they’re trying to hide it but it’s obvious in the way their gazes linger, and how they stop talking as soon as he enters a room. It bothers him less than it probably should though – on the one hand, it’s not a new experience, whenever he talks to someone that isn’t James or Sirius, it’s a constant companion these days. On the other hand, there are so many people out there that would kill him in a heartbeat if they learned he’s still alive, that these things seem ridiculously harmless, in comparison.

It’s a surreal experience, being holed up in this house while there’s a war raging on, something he now only takes part in through the news they hear second-hand, the knowledge that he can’t do anything about it because it would put not only himself into danger.

And it’s not like he wants to keep fighting, really, he learned quickly that he’s not made for this, no matter which side he’s on. Of course, there’s no doubt that Voldemort and his Death Eaters are gruesome and cruel, void of any conscience or mercy, but he knows that fighting against them still involves violence and killing. There’s no innocence in war, and his gut churns as soon as he thinks too much about it.

That doesn’t change how… useless he feels here, from time to time. He did offer Dumbledore to work as a spy, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t glad when the old Headmaster refused, stating that it would be too dangerous if Voldemort found out that he knows about the Horcrux. While he’s not too bad at Occlumency, he’s not good enough to withstand an attack from the Dark Lord.

James still goes on missions occasionally, when the Order is stretched thin or even to not go mad here, and despite his general aversion to keep fighting, he envies him a bit for the freedom to do so. When he does, Sirius stays here or if they’re really in the need for people, they leave someone older or injured. Really, he wonders if they actually think that he doesn’t know he’s being guarded.

He does understand the need though, he’s just glad that they left him with James and not, Merlin help him, Moody.

He sighs, for what feels like the millionth time today. He would like to simply avoid everyone, but seeing that they will all live here together indefinitely, he doesn’t think it would be smart to be perceived as unwilling to even try. So he grits his teeth and helps in the kitchen, ignoring the way James keeps a careful distance between them and doesn’t talk and joke with him as usual.

Dinner is a bit tense, but the children remain blissfully unaware of it all, mostly excited about the change of scenery. He wonders how much time it’s going to take until they go mad with the restricted space, seeing that there’s not much more to do for children here than for them.

Thankfully, everybody is tired and goes to bed soon after cleaning the kitchen, he doesn’t know how much longer he could take the terse atmosphere and unspoken words. He’s already nervous as it is, and it’s not much better, being alone with James, which is a strange feeling after getting along well for so many weeks, but it’s preferable to the badly disguised glares.

“I think I’m going to bed as well,” James says after they sat in silence for a while, each with a cup of tea in front of them and aimlessly thumbing through the Prophet. “You…” he can hear him swallow and bites his tongue to keep from telling him again that he’d rather sleep on the sofa if the idea of sharing a bed is so repulsive to him. “You’re coming, too? It’s just – “

“Yeah, alright,” he sighs, knowing that James probably doesn’t want to be woken up later, on top of everything. It’s not like he’s not tired, and he’d rather avoid stumbling through a room he doesn’t know.

They walk up the stairs in silence and he quickly grabs some sweatpants and a soft jumper before disappearing into the bathroom. Nearly all his clothes are from Sirius, seeing that he never got the chance to pick up any of his own stuff, and it’s a bit too big for him but he rather likes the comfortable washed out jeans and shirts, the cosy sweats and how the long sleeves of the jumpers reach over his hands.

“It’s going to be alright,” he tries to convince himself, throwing a quick look into the mirror and grimacing at how long his hair is getting. It’s not like it matters much though and, ignoring his racing heart, he walks back into James’ room. Their room – Salazar that sounds so weird.

James is already in bed, curled up near the wall and only a candle flickering softly on the nightstand, the flame dancing in the wind that whistles through the open window.

He lies as close to the edge as possible and blows out the candle, and he’s so tense he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to sleep like this, too aware of James’ breathing and every small move he makes.

The barest amount of moonlight shines through the window, just enough to make out blurring shades of furniture and how the curtains sway and he focuses on that and the little sounds the house is making.

It doesn’t take long until James’ breathing becomes steady and he sighs, carefully rolling onto his back. The ceiling isn’t any more interesting than the rest of the room and his mind keeps straying to memories of the day – of the carefree expression James wore while flying and the stark contrast to later, when he was so closed off that Regulus felt like they didn’t know each other at all.

He knows that it’s stupid, brooding over it like this, but no matter how hard he tries, it always comes back up, the feeling of disappointment settling heavy in his chest and making it impossible to fall asleep.

He must have managed it at some point and when he wakes up, it takes his still sluggish brain a long time to understand why he’s so comfortable. He’s pressed against something warm, there’s an arm around his shoulders and he can feel a steady heartbeat underneath his fingertips.

His eyes fly open at the last thought and he only just keeps himself from jerking away at the realisation that he curled against James at some point during the night. Slowly lifting his head, he sighs in relief when he sees that James is still fast asleep, and the carefully slips out from under his arm and out of bed.

The last thing he needs is making this even more awkward than it already is.

It’s still dark outside, only a few birds chirping and the house silent. He could have easily slept some more, but he can’t stay here right now and lights his wand to gather clothes for the day.

He silently makes his way down into the kitchen, glad that he took the time to map out all the small oddities of the house weeks ago; he knows which floorboards creak and which doors to open slowly, which steps to skip and to not lean onto the banister. It’s something he learned early at Grimmauld Place, to move without making a sound, without pulling any attention to himself, and he throws up a Silencing Charm in the kitchen before turning on the kettle for coffee.

As soon as he has a steaming mug ready, he makes his way back up, getting a book out of the library and disappearing into the attic. There’s a small window there with a ledge just big enough for him to curl up on comfortably, his coffee between his feet and the book balanced on his knees.

He can see across the garden and the grounds from here, the forest just slowly becoming distinguishable in the breaking dawn, and he settles himself to stay here for a while. No matter his resolutions to make an effort with everyone, he just knows that he needs some time before he can look at James without making a fool of himself. He can’t be sure that James didn’t notice his cuddling at some point, and he’d rather forget about it as soon as possible.

Sure, eventually he’s probably going to find him here, Regulus found the spot within the first week and ever since used it when he needed some space and time for himself, but James knows about it and most likely won’t let him brood for the whole day.

Or maybe he will, he thinks, remembering the awkwardness of yesterday evening. Leaning his head back he closes his eyes, listening to the sounds of the house slowly waking up and, not for the first time, wishes that he could just disappear. South America always sounded interesting.

Just being less important would be nice, too. Belonging to an inconsequential family, one whose name doesn’t mean anything and whose parents aren’t so mad that they sell their sons out to a genocidal maniac. He could have stayed out of the bloody war, instead of sitting in a dusty attic and worrying over a boy he’ll never have a chance with and a bunch of people that hate his guts.

He snorts softly at himself, wondering what his 14-year old self would think if he could hear that and then shakes his head. Self-pity won’t get him anywhere and he shoves all of it away, into a neat, little, black box in the back of his mind, and then opens the book, his lightened wand behind his ear.

James does find him eventually, when the sun is already past its highest point and he’s more than halfway through his book, and he doesn’t know how long he stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his ankles crossed, but when he finally notices him he’s smiling slightly and Regulus takes it as a good sign that the lacking distance between them last night went unnoticed.

“Aren’t you hungry?” James asks with a pointed look at his long-empty mug and he grins sheepishly, carefully disentangling his wand from his hair.

He gets up and stretches, his knees cracking slightly after the lack of movement for hours and he only now notices that he really has to eat something.

“What were you reading that got you so absorbed?” James asks when they’re walking down the stairs, which manages to get a smile out of him. It didn’t take long for James to notice just how much of a bookworm he is and he often asks about his current book.

“The Plague from Albert Camus. He was a Muggle philosopher and it’s a novel, talking about human nature in an extreme crisis. Kind of fitting, come to think of it,” he says, stroking a finger over the cracked spine.

When he looks up, James is watching him but quickly looks away. “I saved you some soup, the others are outside with the kids. Are you going to help me prepare dinner?”

“Thanks,” he murmurs, gratefully taking the bowl and cancelling the Stasis Charm. “Sure, what did you plan?”

They spend the next hour preparing food and while he still catches James watching him with a weird expression a few times and both of them more than once stumble over their words, they’re mostly back to normal.

He nearly thinks that he’ll be able to get through all this without going mad, until they sit down for dinner around the enlarged table, the kids chattering about their day.

The girl sitting next to him, he thinks her name is Sophie, nudges him towards the end and he turns his head to look at her, acutely aware of all the adults watching them closely. “Jamie said you were reading the whole day,” she states, and he doesn’t miss the way James sighs at the nickname across from him, causing him to grin.

“That’s right,” he says, looking down at her curiously.

Her blue eyes light up and she sits up straighter. “I’m learning to read too but I’m not very good yet. Can you read us a story after dinner?”

The table falls silent and he swallows, but she looks so hopeful and excited that there’s no way in hell he’s going to say no. “Well, if your parents are alright with that I sure can,” he says – at least it won’t be him who disappoints her, right? It’s not like her parents can’t read, anyway.

She turns her pleading eyes on them and they exchange a glance but, to his surprise, they nod, and that’s how Regulus finds himself with five excited children, four of the adults and James sitting around him in front of the fire in the library.

He chooses a Muggle children book – there’s still some Slytherin left in him and he’s not above taking an opportunity if it’s practically thrown into his lap – and spends the next hour reading about a little prince who’s asking people to draw things, interpret his own drawings and visiting planets while talking about the difficulty of dealing with adults and being alone.

It’s an endearing story and when the adults carry off their kids to bed, they even spare him a smile – small steps, and all that.

He’s not looking forward to going to bed himself, but he’s tired and the warmth and sounds of the fire are making his eyes droop, so when James asks him if he wants to go to sleep he agrees, ignoring how much he wishes that he’d mean it a bit differently.

Once again they lie down as far away from each other as possible and it doesn’t take him long to fall asleep tonight, despite his worries, but when he wakes up he can instantly tell that it happened again.

They’re both lying on their sides, facing each other, one arm of James under his head and the other around his middle. He can hear his heartbeat, feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, and he smells like soap and a bit like cinnamon.

But no matter how unfairly good it feels, being enveloped in James like this, warm and comfortable and _safe_, he needs to leave before he wakes up, and carefully tries to move away. It hits him that he didn’t have a nightmare the last two nights, at least not one he can remember, but it only adds to the sense of urgency to get away – it might be a nice change, but he really doesn’t need to start relying on anybody, even more than he already does.

“Don’t,” James murmurs into his hair, arms tightening around him and he instantly freezes, his heart beating rapidly in his chest.

James sighs and pulls away, just enough to look at him. “Sorry, do you want to – it’s just…” his voice is still heavy with sleep and he looks so soft like this, hair standing into every direction, all warm, hazel eyes and small smiles and Regulus has to bite his tongue to remind himself that he can’t just lean forward the few inches, can’t just kiss him no matter how much he wants to.

James’ thumb is drawing circles into his lower back and he closes his eyes, desperately trying to sort out his tangled thoughts, to make sense of any of this because it just doesn’t add up, there’s no rational explanation why James is doing this when just two days ago he was so obviously appalled by the idea of sharing a bed with him.

“You know,” James says softly, his hand moving away from its spot and tentatively pushing a few strands of hair behind Regulus’ ear who opens his eyes against his best intentions, startling at the uncertainty on James' face. “Did you know that I – that I asked to be the one to stay with you?”

He shakes his head, not knowing what to say; it’s not like he never wondered why but he suspected that it has been Sirius’ doing, or simply because of reasons he doesn’t know about. It still doesn’t make sense, James doesn’t strike him as a person who’s happy with staying out of the action, who’s content with keeping watch over a renegade in an old safe-house that has too many creaking floorboards and only a library and a kitchen for company.

Granted, he’s still going on missions from time to time with somebody else staying here, but that’s rather beside the point and he has no idea why his mind comes up with useless stuff, now of all times.

“But why?” he asks, searching James’ face and frowning when he takes a deep breath before meeting his eyes again.

“Because I wanted to spend time with you, because I – I don’t know, I always liked you, I think and well, I didn’t exactly expect to…” he swallows and clears his throat, the hand on Regulus shoulder tightening ever so slightly. “I didn’t expect to end up like this, but I really, _really_ like you.”

He has no idea what to say, his mind whirring and heart threatening to beat out of his chest, but his eyes are involuntarily drawn to the way James is biting his bottom lip, and he knows he should say something but James is leaning forward, slowly, watching him closely and fingers ghosting over his cheek.

“Also, I would really like to kiss you right now,” James whispers, their noses already touching and he doesn’t think he could speak even if he wanted to, so he just nods and closes the remaining distance between them, still not completely convinced that this is not just a dream.

James' lips are soft and warm, and Regulus melts into him, his hands clenching into James’ shirt who only pulls him closer, one hand running through his hair and the other steady on his back, and he thinks he’s never been kissed like this, so carefully, like it actually _means_ something.

He puts one arm around James’ waist, rolling onto his back and pulling him on top of him because he needs to feel more of him, needs something solid and real because he fears that he’s just going to shatter under this tenderness any moment now.

It’s nearly too much, the way his chest feels close to bursting open, his emotions so high-strung that he thinks he could cry if he let himself and he just tries to focus on James’ tongue brushing against his lips, on his fingers ghosting over his jaw and his throat and the warm, soft skin under his own fingertips.

It all becomes a bit less overwhelming after a while and he simply sinks into the feeling, the brimming energy receding to warmth and pure joy, even if it’s still intense and exhilarating, a bit like pulling out of a dive that cut it just a bit too close, and when they eventually break apart, he manages to smile softly, drawing his thumb over James’ jaw and says, “Just if that wasn’t clear, I really, _really_ like you too.”

James smiles brightly and kisses him again, and he thinks that there might be a lot to look forward to, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it, and I'm very happy about Kudos, Comments & Co. 
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr,](https://queenofthedagger.tumblr.com/) send me prompts, say hi if you like. <3


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